You Didn't Know?
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Four years after his parents were murdered, Dick gets a letter from his big brother who has no idea what happened on that one fateful night. How will he explain it all?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey. Sorry, I'm half on a hiatus. Anyway, if you're reading this, please note that 'Matt' isn't an OC. I read… somewhere that I cannot think the name of… that on a movie of a sort, a Matt Grayson was mentioned. Or maybe it wasn't Matt? Oh well. If there is no Matt Grayson mention in any movie, then he's my OC. I don't really give a rat's ass. All I know that Stride's Mystery Flavor is delicious! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the YJ cast, and I don't **_**think**_ **I own Matt…I could be wrong though… All I own is the name up to the… er… left upper corner of your screen? Yeah, FrankandJoe3 is mine, copyrighted and everything! You take it, I sue. No joke. **

The robot pulled its mechanical fist back and drove it hard into Richard's stomach. Richard gasped, screwing up his blue eyes in pain as he dropped to his knees. His sunglasses fell to the concrete and he bent over, hugging himself in agony. The robot raised its might fist to deliver the final blow and Richard tensed up, waiting for the familiar feel of unconsciousness to take him over. He never felt it though. Instead, the alarm that marked the end of the training simulation sounded and the familiar hiss that accompanied it as the backdrop faded. Richard squinted one eye to look up at the robot, just in case. To his relief, it was bent in half, its arms dangling uselessly near its feet.

"Dick! What the Hell was that?" Bruce's unpleased tone thundered through the room.

Richard inhaled sharply as he forced himself to his feet, still tightly hugging his stomach. It throbbed worse every time he took a breath, but it stung when he held his breath. It felt better to hold his breath though, so he kept holding it until he couldn't stand it.

"I… didn't see," he winced at how bad it hurt to speak, "it."

Bruce's expression softened a little at the state Richard was in, but he still wasn't pleased.

"That's no excuse. You've done this simulation a million times as Robin _successfully_. What's the difference?"

He knelt down in his civvies as Richard had branded them and picked up the sunglasses, frowning at the jagged crack that ran through the left lens. He pocketed them before attempting to meet his ward's eyes. Richard's eyes were still closed tightly and his breath was labored, but he seemed to be trying to fight off how bad he really felt. He gritted his perfect white teeth roughly.

"M-mask… utility belt… bulletproof costume?" he offered.

The second his lips closed, it was obvious that his teeth dug into his bottom lip, praying to soften the pain that nearly paralyzed his body with its effects. Bruce's eyebrows furrowed a tinge of guilt ran through him, but it faded fast. He set a hand to the ebony's shoulder, only to get a sharp flinch in response. He dropped his hand back to his side.

"For a mask, you had your sunglasses, and you always have your utility belt. That's not a good excuse either," he argued.

Richard took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly at some thought that passed through his mind.

"You said… I had to stay… in cover. So I couldn't use the-…" Richard growled from deep in his throat, scrunching up his nose, "utility belt. And you try fighting… in these pants."

Bruce's eyes darted from the pained face to the dark pair of mildly skinny jeans that were loose enough to keep circulation going in his legs but tight enough so they framed every muscle perfectly.

"I told you to put on shorts," he retorted simply.

Richard opened his eyes, glaring at Bruce with an 'Are-You-Stupid?' glance.

"In this weather?" he cried, inhaling sharply as the wave of pain hit him hard.

He wondered what the robot could've hit that hurt so bad, but he didn't really care. Right now, he just wanted to put some serious ice on it before it started to bruise to avoid that awkward conversation with Wally who would probably first suspect a sexual situation being the perv he was. He waited for Bruce to give his 'I-Give-Up, I'm-Not-Discussing-This' face and walk from the room, but instead, he got a face he had only seen on times when he had a knife through his chest or was half-dead on the floor. It was Bruce's sympathetic and worried fast, complete with furrowed eyebrows, troubled eyes and a hesitant frown. A soft sigh sounded.

"Why don't we go upstairs and make sure you're okay?" he offered, his voice cautious and careful as if caring was something new to him.

Richard's eyes opened from the painful squints to a surprised and wide look. He looked to the right and left him to make sure it was him Bruce was talking to. When he realized that Bruce was actually showing concern over his failure, a soft smile came to his lips and he nodded, cautiously staggering towards the stairs. A hand softly caught his arm, freezing him where he stood.

"You're in no condition. I don't want you to sprain or break anything," he scolded.

Richard's eyebrows furrowed, but the look of confusion quickly snapped to a look of fear as he was swept off his feet and held like a newborn baby or a newlywed bride with a hand supporting his back and one supporting his knees. He winced and was sure that the simulation robot had accidentally given him something a little worse than a bruise. As Bruce started up the stairs, Richard had gotten used to being held and a smile flitted over his lips again. He closed his blue eyes for a moment and rested his head against Bruce's nicest work shirt, but when his consciousness caught up with him, he lifted his head again and tried to avert his eyes and focus on the pain again.

XxXxX

Richard's head snapped up at the knock he heard on his door, but he calmed as he quickly recognized Alfred's signature tap.

"Come in," he called, screwing up his eyes tight.

The pain had numbed under the ice, but this was the 20 minutes without ice part and it stung something awful at the moment. His head fell to the side so it was facing the door, a smile coming over his lips as he recognized his favorite old man.

"Hello Master Richard," Alfred nodded his head in greeting.

"Hey," Richard returned the greeting, his eyes flying to the envelope in Alfred's hands. "What's that?"

Alfred held it out towards the boy he had grown to consider his grandson.

"A letter for you. It came in the mail this morning. I meant to get it to you earlier, but you were off with Master Wallace before I could," he admitted.

Richard gently grabbed the envelope in his pale hands and pulled it towards himself.

"Thanks," he dismissed Alfred politely.

Alfred took the hint. He bowed his head and ducked out of the room, easing it closed behind him. Once he was gone, Richard set the ice back over his chest, reading the names on the back of the envelope. He saw his own name, written in a familiar spidery style in the center. It was the name in the upper left corner that caused a chill to run down his back: _Matt Grayson. _Richard had forgotten that name, and for a good reason to. With it came memories he had once been proud of, but now only caused him pain.

"Took you long enough bro," he mouthed to himself, easing open the envelope, pulling out the paper that came with it.

The letter was long with that same spidery handwriting on it. The writing was a small font and it consumed all of the white on the paper, except for a small doodle in the upper right corner which looked kinda like an elephant or an alien with huge bulgy eyes. Inside his chest, Richard's heart ached as the name echoed through his mind.

_Matt… It's been 6 years. You better have something pretty damn important to tell me_ he thought to himself before his eyes began to read.

_Dear Dick, _

_Hey little bro! Do you remember me? Man, it's been FOREVER since I saw you. Last time, you were five and you refused to take off little Anna Cheney's one piece swimsuit because you said it made you feel like one of us. How's the circus been going? Last I heard, mom and dad recruited you and you learned some big fancy trick that wowed the crowds. I wanted to come see you two years ago, but for some reason, I couldn't find where Haley's Circus was gonna be next. And for some other odd reason, it said the circus closed. Did you guys move to a new circus or something? The address you're at is definitely not the one it used to be. Did mom and dad finally ship you off to a military school like they always threatened? Just kidding, but seriously, what's up with the new address?_

Richard's eyes widened and his lips parted in the closest thing he could manage to his jaw dropping. Tears threatened to obscure his vision, but he blinked them away.

"Oh God… he doesn't know that mom and dad… and the circus… or Bruce…" the tears came back with a vengeance.

The defenses in his head held pretty strong but one tear managed to escape, slipping down the right side of his face to the pillow beneath his head. With a deep breath, he kept reading.

_It took me forever to find you in anything. I finally just went to the police in desperation and they gave me this address. Did you know mom and dad aren't in the phone book anymore? You better tell dad to work on that. I mean, it'll take him a couple years with his 'technical genius', but it'd help people like me. I'm guessing that you guys moved, and to a pretty nice place too! I used Google Street View to look at the house and… well, excuse me, but DAMN. Nice house bro! It's huge! How did you guys afford it? Did dad suddenly when the lottery or did mom divorce him and marry a rich guy like I told her she needed to? Kidding, sorry about that. _

The more Richard read, the more tears managed to slip past the barrier. Was Matt really that stupid? How could he not have run across that article that announced the Flying Graysons' leaders dead and him being adopted? How could he believe that the Graysons lived in a home with a gate that read 'BW'? He didn't ever remember Matt being that thick, but his memory around the time when Matt left was pretty fuzzy. He slowed his breath, trying to calm down, but it was hard.

_Anyway, I was chilling at home with my girlfriend, F.J., _**[1] **_when I found a picture of us and I realized how much I missed you and I want to see how much you've grown up. I hope you look like me. If you do, you probably have all the ladies crawling on you, right? Unless you're gay, which I guess I could understand… I got to thinking, and I… would it be okay if I came for a visit? It wouldn't be long, just a day or two to catch up. We can talk, hang out, maybe head on down to that little pizza shop you used to love growing up? You know, whatever you want to do. Write me back as soon as you get this. Well, I guess I'll hear from you soon. _

_With Love,  
>Matt G.<em>

Richard's eyes reread the letter, waiting to see a 'Just kidding; I know everyone's dead and your life sucks', but he never saw one. His brother seemed oblivious to everything his youngest brother had spent four years trying to get over. With a sigh, he let go of the letter and let it fall to his side before wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. His brother's words angrily pounced about in his head, and he didn't know how to reply. He closed his eyes tight, pressing the icepack deeper into his stomach to try to numb the dread it started to unleash.

_What am I gonna tell him? "Hey bro, yeah, mom and dad were murdered and I was adopted by a multi-millionaire! Come on down and let's catch up!" Yeah, that'll work out just fine… _Richard frowned to himself and forced himself out of the bed.

He staggered weakly to his writing desk where he pulled a new sheet of notebook paper from one of the drawers. He took a pen from the bucket he had on his dresser and pressed it to the paper, wiping at his teary eyes with the back of his hand again.

"Get a hold of yourself Grayson. It's just a letter from your brother. Why are you crying? Man up!" he yelled at himself beneath his breath.

He bit hard on his lip and set his brother's letter beside his, trying to think of the proper way to phrase everything.

_Dear Matt, _he wrote in his neatest print, tapping his pen against his lip blindly.

He frowned harder if it was possible and sighed slowly, making sure to be careful as to not hurt his chest. A slight idea came to mind, but it hurt his heart though.

"Maybe Matt doesn't need to know everything right now. We can talk about it when we catch up," he decided, putting the pen back to the paper.

_It's been a long time. I'd love to see you again. I have __so__ much to tell you when we get together. There's a reason that we're not in the phone book and that the circus isn't listed and that I'm living in this fancy house, and you definitely won't believe it. Leave 'F.J.' at home though. I want it to be just you and me this weekend. I'll have to clear it with Bruce, my 'warden' if you would, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind since you're family. So, I guess I'll see you when I do. _

_Love,_

_Richard J.G. _

He put Bruce's number in the lower left hand corner, his heart pounding in his chest. He prayed desperately that when Matt called that it'd be him to pick up the phone and not Bruce or Alfred. Alfred would mess everything up with a, "Master Richard isn't here at the moment" and Bruce would probably end up cussing him out for calling in the first place. It looked like his plans with Wally for the weekend would be put on hold. He set a hand to his forehead.

_Damnit. I was looking forward to running through Wal-Mart in my Robin costume with KF, using Wal-Mart as our paintball war grounds… I'm sure he won't mind going another week without getting arrested though. _

And with that, he folded the piece of paper and slipped it into the envelope and wrote his address in the corner and copied Matt's address from the original envelope. He blinked in surprise at how close Matt lived. He was in New York City, less than 25 miles east of Gotham. All this time, he lived about 12 minutes from his brother, if he was the one driving at least. If Bruce was driving, it would be about 5 minutes if he didn't care about property damage and attempted murder on every civilian passing through the street. Just thought made him forget about the couple tears he shed over the letter and his mind faded to the thought of Bruce's erratic driving.

**[1] Couldn't resist (: I have to watch over my stories somehow, don't I?**

**Anyway, yeah. I know Bruce was out of character with the cruelness near the beginning and Richard wouldn't give in to a single blow to the gut, even if it almost killed him, but I had to include the front part on a dare from my bestie. It was from one of the 'Horror Land' by R.L. Stine books and I figured I could fit it in. So… uh… should I finish this? I had on my list of stories to write, "Something with Matt Grayson", so I figured I'd check it off before my hiatus… So um, review? **

**-F.J. ;) **


	2. Chapter 2

**My laptop is broken so I'm typing on my old computer. The only problem is that it's my little brother's and I can't log into my email, so if you messaged me or wrote a story, it'll be a couple more days 'til I read it. And school starts tomorrow, so my updating will be slowed down by a lot. So, for all the people who don't start school tomorrow, I hate you. Well, more like I envy you. I hate school… *sobs dramatically***

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even this goddamn computer! *Sorry, feeling bipolar***

Matt sighed to himself, anxiously drumming his fingers against the table top in front of him. He wouldn't admit it, but he was scared sick at the thought of meeting his little brother after all this time. His stomach dropped at the thought of the little boy hating him for abandoning him all those years ago.

_Calm down Grayson. If he hated you, he wouldn't have agreed or even written back. You're worrying for no reason _he tried to assure himself.

He flipped his shaggy brown hair from his piercing blue eyes, starting to drum a familiar beat on the table top with only his fingertips and fingernails. His eyes unconsciously scanned his outfit. It was what he always wore: a simple and baggy white t-shirt with light blue jeans that had a few tears in the knees.

_Should I have dressed better? No… he's my brother. He shouldn't care what I wear_ he argued with himself, his eyes darting back to his hands, finally recognizing the beat of 'Apologize' by OneRepublic.

Before he could start humming the familiar song, Thom's voice snapped him from his thoughts.

"Hey Mattie! Your brother just called. He said he had to stop and ask a friend for a favor and that he'd be here in a couple more minutes. He suggested you order so the pizza's ready when he gets here," the old man called from behind the counter of the Graysons' once favorite pizza shop.

Thom had a long and flowing white beard that was basically all the hair he had on his pale head. He wore a pizza sauce stained apron on and a warm smile to match. Matt smiled, relieved that little Dick hadn't forgotten. He stood up and strode to the counter, folding his harms and leaning on them against the counter.

"Did he tell you what he wanted?" Matt asked, his eyes scanning the familiar menu for the specific title of his all-time favorite.

Thom chuckled warmly.

"Didn't he? Ah, that boy's order hasn't changed since he was 10. He comes in two or three times every month with some red haired boy and they sit at that table in the corner," he gestured to it.

Matt's eyes darted to it.

"Do they seem like they're… ya know…?" he asked casually, pretty sure he knew what he wanted.

"Gay? Nah, they act like best friends. Some days, they'll bring in a red haired lady and a blonde girl, same with some black boy and some buff ebony. They just seem like a group of friends, although you're bro is the youngest of them all," Thom smiled at the thought of the group. "They act like one big messed up family."

Matt smiled, relieved that his brother was straight. He wouldn't mind a gay brother, but the thought kind of put him off-edge. **[1] **

"Glad to see he's still doing okay. Alright, um… well, my dearest Smithy, why don't you just set me up with the special? Everything looks awesome, but Canadian ham sounds delicious right now," Matt decided, leaning up off his hands.

Thom smiled at the nickname from long ago. "Got it, half order special and cheese. Give me about ten minutes. By that time, little Richard will be here."

Matt nodded graciously and returned back to the table by the window, thinking to pass the time as he watched the cars pass by. He couldn't help but wonder why his little brother hung out with the older kids. Was he doing drugs? Did he break into the school for test answers?

_Oh God, I sure hope not. I don't want him following in my footsteps… _

XxXxX

"This is stupid," Wally complained, putting the helmet over his head. "Why do I have to drive around on your motorcycle?"

"Because," Dick said simply, his blue eyes sparkling with mischievousness and a dash of anger, "I saw Bruce's civvie car following me downtown and I don't want him stopping me from meeting my big brother."

Wally rolled his eyes, mounting the motorcycle.

"Come on dude. You're dad- er, ward… warden? You're…" he sighed at trying to think of what to call Bruce. He gave a frustrated groan, "_Bruce _isn't that stupid. I'm taller than you. He'd know it's not you."

Dick grinned to himself. "That's why you have to drive fast. Bruce follows speed laws, but you don't have to."

He felt better as he saw Wally grin behind the helmet.

"You want me to break the law?" he interpreted it.

Dick cocked his head, looking up and pursing his lips. He shrugged.

"That's one way to put it, I suppose," he agreed.

Wally cheered, pumping a fist into the air.

"I knew there was a reason I loved ya," he teased.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Just get going before he sees me."

He patted his favorite ginger's back and the teen took the hint, blasting off onto the road, giving off an amused cackle at the feeling. When he was out of sight, Dick jogged down the road. He set a hand to his ear where a communicator lay in hiding. He pressed the button, turning it on.

"Keep this on dude, just in case," Dick requested.

He heard Wally give a manish giggle before he replied. "Sure dude, whatever. I see your- er, Bruce's car behind me seventy feet. I'm giving him for his money, all multi-million of it."

Dick grinned to himself, shaking his head before turning the communicator half-off so that if Wally needed to contact him, he'd hear it. When he saw the pizza shop come into view, his heart stopped dead in his chest. He was terrified. What if his brother was some oversized trannie? What if his brother was some super muscled guy on steroids? What if he was a murderer? The what-ifs ran wild in his head, but he tuned them out as he nervously opened the door, stepping inside the pizza shop. Despite the warm temperature the shop was set to, violent chills ran down his back as he scanned the occupants. There were a lot of people there.

Dick swallowed hard and forced his legs of Jell-O to move forward, looking over every guy in the shop, looking for one that mildly looked like him.

Matt looked up from the table as he heard the door chime. In the doorway was a boy who looked to be about 13 or 14. He had hair that wasn't long, but it wasn't short. It seemed just long enough to be able to flip about for amusement. His eyes were a dark blue, and a familiar one at that. He wore a black jacket that was unzipped, revealing the green shirt he wore beneath it. His jeans were thin and a darker shade at that. The only thing that made him not look like his brother was the deep ebony that his hair was. His little Dickard had brown hair. He sighed, turning his eyes back to the table.

That couldn't be his brother. The boy was far too pale anyway. The little toddler he had known had spent every other second outside, causing his skin to get a nice shade of tan. And the other thing that set him off was the muscles. Sure, trapezists had nice muscles, but nothing like that. Unless his brother was working at a gym for four hours a day, every day, or something like that, that wasn't Dick. Or so he thought.

"Hey Richie," Thom welcomed the little ebony, tousling the boy's black locks of hair, causing him to scrunch up his nose in discomfort despite the grin that flew to his lips.

"Hey Smithy," Dick returned the greeting, ducking out from under the hand. "Is Matt here?"

Matt forced himself to his feet, smiling weakly. He raised a hand in a nervous wave. When Dick's eyes fell on him, the boy's weak grin doubled in size, drawing a grin from Matt's lips without him meaning to. Dick walked carefully to him and the two stared at each other for a while, not sure of what to do exactly.

"Well, do I get a hug?" Matt asked teasingly, opening his arms, surprised that He still stood a foot over his little brother at only 6'2".

Dick accepted the invitation and practically tackled his big brother, burying his blue eyes into the baggy white t-shirt. Matt tensed for a moment, but he eased up and wrapped an arm around his brother until he felt the ebony's grip release so he dropped his arms. His blue eyes sparkled happily. Dick quickly slid into the seat opposite of Matt, his own blue eyes seemingly twinkling.

"I have so much to tell you!" Dick said, hiding the twinge of pain that followed.

Matt smiled, "Me too bro. Hey, where are mom and dad? Are they coming?"

His smile faded as he saw his little brother's grin fade and his eyes darted to the bottom left corner of their sockets.

"I uh… no… they're… not coming," he admitted, setting a hand to his neck.

Matt raised an eyebrow.

"They aren't still mad at me, are they?" he asked, a slight shade of hurt passing over his lips.

He studied his brother's reaction carefully. Dick shook his head, seeming to think of how to phrase it.

"I uh… no, they're not mad," he said slowly.

That peaked Matt's curiosity.

"So, where are they?" he asked.

Richard forced his eyes up to his brother's.

"Matt, mom and dad are… dead," he decided to phrase it.

Matt's eyes widened for a second before he laughed, grinning to himself.

"You almost had me there bro. But seriously, I don't blame them for being mad. I was kind of an ass to them back then. Are they back at the house?" he was totally oblivious.

When he saw that Dick didn't laugh or grin back, his grin faded and his eyebrows furrowed.

"They're buried six feet under the ground in Gotham Cemetery, row 16, 12 over in a double tombstone," his little brother's voice sounded soft and broken at the memory.

Matt's jaw dropped slowly, his eyes widening in hurt.

"D-dead…?" he whispered in disbelief.

Dick nodded slowly, averting his eyes.

"H-How?" Matt tried to keep from smashing the table with his fists, his eyes starting to water.

Dick bit his lip, exhaling slowly.

"Tony Zucco and his gang wanted money from the Circus, but they wouldn't give any, so they put acid on the wires. Mom and dad swung by and reached for me… and the wire snapped… and they fell…" Dick coughed to keep his voice strong.

Matt blinked fast, hoping to keep a few tears from falling.

"D-Did… who…" he couldn't think of what to say.

Lucky for him, the pizza was set on the table, presented by a smiling Thom. When he saw how devastated Matt looked, he looked questionably at Dick.

"He hasn't heard from mom and dad in six years," Dick mouthed.

Thom winced. He patted Matt's back comfortingly before walking back behind the counter, a frown playing over his lips now too. Dick picked up a piece of cheese pizza and took a bite, letting out a cry and dropping it at the heat.

"Hey, that might be hot," Matt teased half-heartedly.

Dick shrugged, offering a small smile. Matt picked up a piece and blew on it, taking a bite of his Canadian ham pizza. His eyes stared at the wall behind Dick that separated the table from the one behind it.

"Who do you live with now? Did… Zucco get caught?"

Dick took a cautious bite of pizza before answering.

"Batman caught him and Zucco's rotting in Arkham for all I know," Dick answered the first question, "and as for me… Well, the orphanage couldn't find any proof that you were still alive so I was put up for adoption. I'm living with Bruce Wayne, the multi-millionaire."

Matt sighed.

"That explains the BW on the gate…" he slammed his fist towards the tabletop but froze it an inch above the top. "God, I'm so stupid."

He set the fist against the table, taking another bite of pizza before closing his eyes. Dick followed suit, waiting for his brother to say something. And when his brother did finally speak again, it was the last thing in the world he had ever expected.

"So… now that there's proof I'm alive, doesn't that mean you have to come live with me since I'm your last of kin?"

**[1] It's a term I made up. It's kind of like on-edge, but on-edge is when you're kind of suspicious and scared. Off-edge would be like where you're falling off the edge and you'd be scared and panicked. **

**Hmm, crappy ending. I don't know how adoption goes, but Bruce never really adopted Dicky-boy. Wouldn't that mean Matt would have to adopt him since he's legally family and Bruce isn't? If not, then sorry for the sucky ending. If you have no idea like me, then I suppose it could be a cliffie. And do you like it better when I call Robin's alter ego Richard or Dick? I decided to experiment… And was Matt a weenie or what? I tried to think of how someone would react, but I've never seen anyone get told that they're folks are dead so… I figured if I made him start sobbing his eyes out, you'd call him a pussy or something. **

**Review?**

**-F.J. Smith(y) **


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I asked my Daddy on this one. He's smarter than you think. **

Dick tensed at even the thought of losing Bruce. He shook his head though and took another bite of pizza.

"I asked Bruce something like that a few months ago. He said it'd be up to the courts, but most likely he'd keep custody of me until they 'proved you competent' and stuff like that. Besides, no offense intended, I've kind of grown on Bruce," what Dick wanted to say was that he technically _had _to live with Bruce to keep being Robin, but that could be his little secret.

Matt seemed a little hurt by the last sentence, or maybe his 'I-Don't-Care' act was starting to fade because Dick saw tears bubble up in his brother's averted eyes. The older of the two wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"No offense taken," Matt assured his little brother.

He could read doubt in the eyes, but the brunette held his grounds.

"What are the chances of me getting to meet beloved Bruce?" Matt changed the subject, closing his eyes tight and wiping hard at them.

Dick thought of how hard he had tried to hide Matt. All that work would be for nothing more than Wally's enjoyment of law-breaking. He shrugged.

"I uh… well…"

He set a hand to his neck, about to admit he didn't know, when the earwig in his ear sparked to life and Wally's hysteric voice filled his ear canal. He screwed up his eyes and his hands flew to his head.

"Agh," he groaned, "Damnit!"

Matt winced, his brotherly instinct kicking in.

"Dick? You okay?" he asked, his still blurry eyes wide with fear.

He nodded, keeping one eye clenched up tight. He held up a finger, gesturing silence on Matt's part.

"Rob! Agh, he knows it's not you! He's right behind me! Run dude! Abort!" Wally cried quickly, speed-talking like he usually did when he was mildly afraid or just nervous.

"KF, just… just drive a bit faster! It goes at least 150," Dick said, ignoring the strange looks he was getting.

"I'm going over 160! I think I flattened a cat! He's gunning it though! He's going to beat me to an orange pulp! I can't cover for you! I have to abandon your motorcycle!" Wally yelled over the wind.

Dick tensed up. "Come on! My motorcycle is faster. Just drive it back to your house. Go the back way! Please don't mess it up. Conner already broke it once and _I _had to fix it. It took like, three months!"

"Bro, something wrong?" Matt asked, temporarily forgetting about his parents.

Dick ignored him. Wally groaned.

"Fine, but you owe me," Wally complained.

Dick smiled gently, "I'll take you to the candy shop next week?"

He heard the ginger whoop excitedly.

"Got it, I'll be hauling some serious balls," Wally decided, "Just one last thing…"

"Hmm?" Dick glanced Matt's way and mouthed an apology.

He heard Wally laugh before he started singing off-key.

"_It's not gay if it's in a three-way_!" the freckle-faced boy sang over the wind, a giggle sounding after it.

Dick grinned to himself and switched the communicator off for the moment, turning back to his brother. The confused face that met his made him wince, but he recovered swiftly.

"I…" he turned his head and tilted it to show the earwig.

Matt's eyes widened further.

"W-What's that?" he asked.

"Uh, communicator," Dick said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Matt's eyes returned to normal, but he still seemed on edge.

_Why would he be scared of an earwig? _

The ebony shook his head to himself, picking back up his pizza, taking a half-hearted bite. Matt seemed dazed for a moment before he suddenly seemed to remember.

"So, about Bruce?" he reminded the thirteen year old.

Dick's eyebrows furrowed, but his head snapped up when he caught up with his train of thought.

"Oh yeah! Uh, yeah… I… I-I guess you could," he clenched his hands into fists so his fingers popped.

"You guess? Is there something wrong? If you don't want me to meet him…" Matt began.

"No!" Dick cut him off, his face going red as he noticed others in the pizza place stare at him suspiciously, "I-I mean… Of course I want you to meet him. It's just that he's…"

"Stuck up? Weird? Old? Crippled? Mentally Disturbed?" Matt offered when his brother trailed off.

The ebony shook his head. "It's… hard to explain…"

Matt nodded, finally picking up the discarded pizza and taking a bite.

"Trust me, I understand. That's exactly like F.J. is…" he smiled at the thought of her, ending up dragging all the cheese off the pizza.

Dick smiled. "Well, sorry about her, but I'm glad you get it. It'd be so hard to explain!"

Matt opened his mouth to say something when Dick's hand flew to his ear again, wincing.

"Dude! Seriously?"

He listened and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Why? Just keep it at your pl- oh yeah, 2 hours away. Uh, I'll be out in a minute," Dick's voice sounded kind of sad now.

He exhaled heavily, frowning. He frowned.

"Quit singing that! You're going to get it in my head!" Dick complained.

Matt listened carefully and he could faintly hear a voice.

"_It's okay, if it's in a three way. If there's a honey in the middle there's leeway," _he faintly heard.

He smirked to himself, recognizing 'The Golden Rule' by Lonely Island.

"Alright, see you in 2."

Dick turned back to his brother.

"Sorry Matt, but there's a… _problem _at home. You can come over tomorrow so I can warn- er, prep Bruce," he said quickly.

Matt nodded.

"I understand."

He got to his feet, to go pay, but Dick arm-barred him so he couldn't advance.

"No, Bruce's loaded. I can pay for this," Dick stopped him.

Matt shook his head.

"_I _suggested it, _I _pay," he argued.

Dick shook his head. "You don't have time to argue. Just finish your pizza. I'll pay. See you tomorrow bro."

Matt surrendered, holding open his arms, silently suggesting a good-bye hug. Dick grinned to himself, his eyes sparkling. He wrapped his arms tightly around Matt. The hug was quick though as Dick dashed to the counter, money in hand. Then he bound out the door, jumpy as ever.

"Kids," Matt sighed, throwing up his arms in exasperation.

"I hear you there," Thom agreed from behind the counter.

Matt smiled at even the thought of Thom's lovely accented daughter before he glanced at the table of pizza. It didn't look so good anymore. He picked up the extra and threw them away.

"See you later Smithy," he waved good-bye, exiting out the front door.

As he did, he caught sight of his brother quickly leaping onto the back of a motorcycle, wrapping his arms around a redhead boy.

"_Normally, I don't get down with dudes, but tonight is a special exception. See, you're my best friend through thick and thin, and now it's time to make a triple connection_," the redhead sang as they drove off, getting hit for it.

Matt heard a faint laugh sound before seconds later, a black car sped after them, going fast enough to blow his hair back. He didn't think much of it though. Instead, he headed for his black Ford F150 to head back home to F.J. The second he got in the driver's seat, Dick's words went through his head.

"_They're buried six feet under the ground in Gotham Cemetery, row 16, 12 over in a double tombstone." _

Tears filled his eyes again.

_Maybe F.J. can wait. I suppose I owe mom and dad a visit. _

Before he could start the car though, he finally let out a few of the tears he had been holding back. It stung, making him feel awkward, but it was better than pretending he didn't care at all.

**Hey dudes, dudettes, elves and creepy 50 year old pedos; I NEED HELP. I know my writing style is questionable and weird. Do you have any tips so I can improve a little? I'm working on a personal story and I want to one day publish it or something so… Yeah, tips are awesome. And if you have a big word, I want to hear it. I like new vocabulary. **

"**It's not gay when it's in a three-way." –The Golden Rule (Lonely Island ft. Justin Timberlake)**

**If you're wondering why I kept showing that song, I'll tell you: IT'S ADDICTING. It's catchy, it's stupid… It's funny! I love Lonely Island!**

**-F.J. **


	4. Chapter 4

**This story is dedicated to the bane of my existence, my inspiration, my whole world, my big (half) brother: Dustin Christopher Hinrichs. I love you bro. **

_**WARNING: BRUCE WILL BE WAY OOC. **_

_The second Wally swung by the familiar black gates, Richard jumped off the back of the motorcycle, barrel rolling safely across the pavement. Knowing he didn't have much time, he jumped up as fast as he could and bounded to the black gate's many wires. He knew he didn't have the time to unlock the gate, seeing Bruce was approaching fast, so he did the next best thing: he scaled it. The toes to his shoes dug into the small area between where each wire met and he climbed for his life, reaching the top in four jumps. When he reached the top of the gate, he leapt down onto the green grass on the other side. _

_He put a hand down to steady himself during the landing, taking a track-start towards the front door of the manor. He ran as fast as he could force his legs to go, but despite the speed, the gates were opening before he was even halfway down the driveway. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he ducked his head down and resorted to his 'ninja run' as Wally nicknamed it, throwing his arms out behind him. Stupid as it sounded, the 'ninja run' made him go twice as fast. He was nothing compared to the fast speed of a car though. _

_He knew Bruce wouldn't run him down, and he was sure that Bruce would never lay a hurtful finger on him. He was just running so Bruce wouldn't scold him. The disappointment was always harder to face than actual pain. He heard the squeal of tires as Bruce slid into the driveway, causing his muscles to tense. He bit down hard on his lip and somehow managed to wrench open the door before Bruce could leap out of the car. _

"_Hello Master Richard," Alfred greeted him, wincing at his near-grandson's speed. _

"_Hide me!" the ebony squeaked, dashing to the library. _

XxXxX

Dick hadn't meant to slip. Better yet, he hadn't meant to slip from the ceiling beams. Even better than before, he hadn't meant to slip from the ceiling beams in front of Bruce. He supposed it was better to fall in front of Bruce than to fall in front of no one at all, but it was embarrassing. He had once been one of the Flying Grayson's! As he lay there on his bed pathetically, he couldn't have been more ashamed of himself. He had once been among the best of the best, and now, he couldn't even hold onto a support beam.

His eyes held a slight pink hue and the veins stood out around the blue, a red stain circling the underneath of his eyes. His breath kept hitching and unhitching itself like a faulty trailer hitch on the back of an old pickup truck. It couldn't decide whether to stick or to stay free and fly down the highway madly, probably causing a huge traffic jam or 26 car pileup. Dick had a faint hope that his earphones would be like the handyman who the stubborn redneck had finally called to fix the hitch and keep it steady.

Even when he fought to forget, singing along with Panic at the Disco, the random lyrics would break down a memory he didn't want to remember any more. He considered skipping to a different artist, but he _really _liked this band and nothing else sounded good in the slightest. Not even the knocking he heard at his door. He knew it was either Alfred or Bruce and he didn't want either of them to see him like this. Apparently though, that was exactly what they wanted. Lucky for Dick though, it was Alfred who cracked opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Master Richard, can we speak for a moment?"

Dick sighed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand and pausing the MP3 player.

"I-If Bruce sent you here-," he began exhaustedly.

To his surprise, Alfred smiled warmly.

"I came on my own free will," he assured the broken ebony, easing the door closed to block out any unwanted ears.

"Oh…"

Dick's shoulders slumped. He had kind of hoped that Bruce had worried about him. Oh well, maybe he'd come in later that night. Dick shrugged it off though, sighing softly.

"Is now a bad time?" Alfred sounded slightly upset.

Dick winced.

"N-No!" he cried, the trailer hitch loosening up a bit again.

What a cheap ass handyman. He should try hiring my dad. My dad could fix it up for free. Damn, I got side tracked again. Sorry.

"Were you hoping for Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired in a surprisingly happy voice.

Dick shrugged.

"I… no offense," he muttered, averting his eyes.

Alfred nodded.

"It's no bother. Truth is truth, even if to some it may seem to be offensive. I don't find it troublesome though. Master Bruce wanted to come up to see you, but he gets the impression that you're mad at him and he doesn't want to worsen the situation," he admitted.

The red tinted pair of blue eyes widened in surprise and a watery smile came onto the lips of the pale face.

_He cares _he thought hopefully, the red tint moving downward to his cheeks.

Alfred took the smile as a sign to continue, so he did.

"Master Bruce mentioned a fall?" he probed.

The happy blush faded to an ashamed one. He stared hard at his feet, grumbling beneath his breath.

"I uh… yeah… I was hiding up in the… ceiling of the Batcave," Dick mumbled slowly, "and Bruce turned on the light… so he could see me… I was surprised… and fell…"

Alfred's eyes widened and his eyes unconsciously scanned the thirteen year old's exposed limbs for any bruises, cuts or broken bones.

"Are you alright?" he began to fret. "Are you hurt? Was there blood? Do you feel sick?"

That only caused the red blush to darken.

"I'm fine," Dick mumbled, running a hand over the top of his hair, smoothing it flat.

That didn't ease the worry. Alfred dashed to his side, taking the ebony's arms and raising them up to examine them. That only worsened the shame. Dick politely ripped his arm down from the butler's hands, wrapping their way around his stomach.

"I'm fine!" he said a bit more forcefully this time.

Alfred took the hint and backed off, uttering a quick apology.

"It's just… well Master Richard, the way Master Bruce described it, it sounded like you'd have maybe a broken leg," he explained himself.

Dick set a hand to his neck to cool the cold.

"Bruce caught me… from falling, I mean. He managed to get to where I was just in time."

Alfred nodded. "Yes, he mentioned that. He also mentioned you were… very upset on the matter… and started… crying…"

Dick could tell Alfred had been trying to say it in a non-offensive way, but was glad he had settled with what he did.

"Yeah…" he sighed. "I'm a pussy…"

Alfred scrunched up his nose in discomfort at the particular word his near-grandson had chosen.

"I wouldn't say that. It's completely understandable for you to be scared. It's nearly a 60 foot drop."

The old man noticed that Dick kept eying the door unconsciously, but he chose not to question.

"Did…" the blue eyed babe cleared his throat, "Did Bruce say anything about Matt?"

Alfred nodded slowly.

"Ah, yes…"

Dick waited patiently, but Alfred showed no sign of continuing. He exhaled hard through his nose and closed his eyes to hide the fact that he rolled them.

"What'd he say?" Dick rephrased it.

Alfred didn't answer. He stood up swiftly and headed for the door.

"I had better put dinner on," he attempted to excuse himself, "It's getting late."

Alfred had managed to open the door before he was stopped.

"What'd he say?" he repeated impatiently.

Alfred frowned lightly.

"I uh… he said no…"

Dick winced, his jaw dropping angrily. He sat up too fast, making his world go black for a few seconds. He blinked it off though.

"What?" he cried.

Alfred looked the other way. "Maybe it's best you discuss this with Master Bruce. I don't want to pick sides."

Alfred left the room, so Dick took that as his cue. He took the earphones completely out of his ear and shut the MP3 player off, leaping out of his bed. He bolted for the door and ended up tripping over nothing, face-planting in a way that would make Zetsu proud. **[1] **He groaned.

_Freakin' figures _he thought to himself, pushing himself off the ground and opening the door, being a little more careful this time.

His nose really hurt now. He knew it wasn't broken or bleeding or anything of that sort, but it really hurt. Dick was sure Bruce had a reason, but for his mentor's sake, it had better be a pretty damn good reason.

XxXxX

Wally stared at the motorcycle in his garage and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well…" he said slowly, trying to think of what to do with it, "I should've thought this through before I agreed…"

He glanced down at his phone again, the screensaver of him and Robin standing alone next to the battery, signal and vibrate button. He had no new messages from the boy wonderful. His eyebrows furrowed.

"God, I hope I didn't get him in trouble," he muttered, guilt lining his voice.

_Maybe I should've just ran him home _he regretted it all.

He was tempted to call the Wayne Manor and ask Alfred how his little blue eyed babe was doing, but it had only been a couple hours. Maybe Dick was busy or something. Taking the motorcycle would be practical suicide now, so Wally headed back inside the house, slipping his phone back in his jeans' pocket.

XxXxX

**[1] God, that was horrible. I hope no one has any idea of what I'm talking about. That didn't make any sense, even to me… I just thought, "Hey! Plant! Works for me!"**

**So… I saw my first burning house… Who would burn such a beautiful house? It was engulfed in flames! We called 9-1-1, but it was too late. They were only a mile from my house!**

**And yes, Bruce has a reason. I'm putting off writing him because I'm still struggling. You'll be surprised at the reason, I guarantee it. Trust me, don't go hating on Bruce yet. And sorry for the OOC-ness. I'm tired and I needed to update. **

**- (A very sorry) FrankandJoe3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, so uh, I need to update this. You'll see why Bruce said no and you'll see that Bruce is always right, even when he's not. Wait- what? Agh, I confuse myself. Screw that! I has Tourettes. Just huggle me and try not to get head bashed (; I likes hugs. Maybe, one day if I become famous, people all over will hug me? I could keep a book of it or something! Or not. Maybe if they're attractive… Eh, who am I kidding? I get distracted too easy :p**

_**BRUCE IS OOC**_** because he is drunk and such **_**SO DON'T FLAME ME FOR IT! **_**There, you've been warned. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own YJ, but if I owned stupid spell check, I wouldn't see so many green and red lines. I KNOW HOW TO TYPE! I KNOW HOW TO SPELL MY NAME! SCREW OFF IN A DARK CORNER WITH A RUSTY NAIL! *cough, cough***

When Dick burst into the living room to confront his mentor, the black haired elder didn't seem to notice, let alone care. He was in one of the two armchairs by the fire which flickered dangerously in the surprising darkness during the mildly earlier hours. His attention was focused on something that was in his hands. It was a little action figurine that looked as if someone had cloned his alter ego and shrunk him down to about eight inches.

"This is ridiculous," Bruce mumbled to himself, studying the features carefully, "How the _hell _did they get _everything _right?"

'There had better be a good reason for this!" Dick said loudly, his head wrapped around his own little predicament.

Bruce didn't glance his way, but he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Exactly! Do secret identities mean anything anymore, nowadays?" he cried exasperatedly, turning over the Batman doll, rubbing the fabric of the cape between his thumb and index finger.

Dick hesitated, attempting to follow what Bruce was talking about.

_What does a secret identity have to do with Matt not being able to come over?_

Bruce threw up his hands, only after setting the figurine on his pant leg, a look of irritation settling over his features.

"They even have the feel of the fabric right! Stupid fangirls," he groaned, setting his head in his right hand.

Dick finally put two-and-two together and sighed. If he was in an anime, a dramatically large bead of sweat would've appeared to the left of his "Kill-Me-Now" face.

"Bruce, I'm not talking about your doll!"

Bruce glanced over at him, picking up the figurine. He didn't seem to notice the 'doll' comment.

"Oh, don't worry Richard, they have a figurine of Robin too," he said obliviously.

Dick rose an eyebrow. Something was off with Bruce. Usually, his mentor could take a hint. Beside that, was Bruce _rambling? _Impossible! Something wasn't right. Curiously, Dick walked to his mentor's side, being cautious about it. Bruce seemed a bit confused by it.

"Do you need something?" he inquired simply, his eyes actually meeting the blues across from him.

It didn't take Dick long to draw conclusions.

"Are you-… Bruce, are you on something?" he asked worriedly.

His eyebrows were furrowed, a frown playing over his delicate lips. Bruce's eyes widened at even the idea. A look of anger flashed across his features.

"You dare assume I'm on drugs?" he asked.

That only confirmed something in the back of the false ebony's mind, but from the smell of it, it wasn't drugs his mentor was on.

"No…" he said slowly, recognizing the faint scent of Scotch, "I am accusing you of having one too many drinks though."

Bruce didn't argue this time. He glanced back to the little figurine in his hands, lifting one hand so a fist was in the air and moving it back and forth so it looked like little Batman was flying. The man seemed to drift off into his own mind until his ward loudly cleared his throat to regain the attention he craved.

"Oh- sorry Dick. Yeah, I had a couple drinks. Alfred offered and I excepted. He figured it would…" Bruce stopped mid-sentence, staring hard at the mini Batman's mask for a moment. "I uh-… yeah, he figured it'd mellow me out so I wouldn't… get furious and start thinking… irrationally…"

Dick's eyes widened, surprised he was hearing this. Bruce _never _drank. He didn't really go to bars, he'd order water and milk and such at the Café and other restaurants. The only actual alcohol in the Manor was in Alfred's room, and the old butler never shared his stash.

"You're drunk," Dick confirmed cautiously, feeling as if he stared at his mentor any longer that he'd start feeling tipsy.

Bruce shrugged lightly, glancing to the fire.

"I don't know how Alfred convinced me… I was pretty," he took a deep breath, "angry about you and that ex-druggie meeting up so I-…"

"Ex-Druggie?" Dick cut him off, sounding half offended and half confused, "I was meeting with my _brother_!"

It was Bruce's turn to widen his eyes, but his reason was Dick's tone. Even though his mind was numb, he was pretty sure this was one of his little boy's 'Wally Tones' as he had christened them, seeing that it was a tone he only seemed to use with the troublesome Kid Flash. It was that offended, "Dude, what the hell did you say that for?" tone. When Dick saw the widened eyes, he screwed his eyes up, tensed up and stepped back, waiting to be yelled at or scolded or something. He was surprised how mellow and calm the tone that bounced back at him was.

"Well… sorry boy, but your… brother is an ex-druggie. I looked him-… looked up his record. That's the least of it," Bruce said nonchalantly.

Dick's eyes opened, but he didn't really seem all too surprised. In fact, he laughed lightly.

"Whatever Alfred gave you, remind me to have that be my first drink in the future," he said brightly, amused at even the idea that his dearest big brother could have a record.

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't recommend Scotch," he confided, "If anything, try one of those fruity alcoholic stuff in the future. It seems kinda like a sissy drink, but it's better than Scotch and _way _better than Vodka and Jagermeister. You probably want to remember your first drunk night…"

He stopped, frowning hard as if he was thinking of something. The thought escaped him for a moment and he sat in silence, grabbing at the thoughts until he finally grasped the right one.

"Oh-… and your brother… sorry Dick, but he messed around with cocaine and-," Bruce coughed hard, "and heroine. He dealt with some assault stuff… and it mentioned he was almost went in for rape, but the case was dropped or something like that."

Dick shook his head, although he seemed only to be assuring himself.

"This is my _brother _we're talking about!" he tried to sound enthusiastic. "Matt's a good guy!"

Bruce held the doll up so the background of it was the burning fire.

"I never said he was a bad guy," Bruce said simply.

Dick held up his hands in exasperation.

"Then why can't he come over and meet you and Alfred?" he cried, his voice strained.

The true ebony didn't look up from the figurine. He was currently trying to take off the mask with no success.

"Because; he's a bad guy," Bruce contradicted himself.

Dick groaned and face-palmed.

"You just- agh!" he turned to leave the room, practically announcing surrender.

Bruce lifted his head again and he seemed surprise to see the small frame leaving the room.

"Hey!" he called, his voice slurring slightly.

Dick stopped in the doorway, turning his head. He sighed weakly.

"_What_?"

Bruce swallowed, thinking for a moment.

"Does it really mean this much to you?" he phrased carefully.

Bruce got a 'Wally Face', which just like the 'Wally Tones' was a face that the Boy Wonderful only gave to the redhead. It was his "Are-You-Kidding-Me?" face.

"He's my last of kin! The last Grayson related to me… that I know of… _Of course it means that much to me!_"

Bruce didn't seem to notice the snap.

"I'll give him one chance. How about tomorrow for dinner?" he offered, clasping his hands, suffocating poor little Batman.

Dick grinned ear-to-ear.

"R-Really?" he cried happily before hesitating, "Wait- why tomorrow?"

Bruce smiled warmly, tightening his death grip on the doll's neck.

"Simple my boy, because tonight, I'm drunk. I figure you want your brother to think that someone better than a slurring drunk adopted you," Bruce explained himself, unsteadily getting to his feet.

Dick shrugged, pleased with the answer. He didn't believe the rape charge though. He had glanced over his brother's report and nothing that serious had came up. It was probably just the alcohol thinking for his mentor.

"I suppose. See you at dinner?"

Bruce shook his head, catching his sidekick off guard.

"I'm afraid that I should be heading to bed now," he dismissed himself.

"At five?" Dick cried in disbelief.

Bruce's smile shrunk a little, but it stayed sincere.

"It comes with getting old and getting a little under the influence," he said simply.

Before he headed for the stairs, Bruce stumbled towards the fire, resting his hand against the mantle.

"You can still feel free to attend though. Alfred mentioned roast and I know that's one of your favorites."

Dick nodded slowly, taking the hint with his sober mind, exited the room swiftly. He leaned over the railing of the stairs to watch him for a moment longer. Bruce looked above the mantle where a picture of Dick and his parents sat carefully, the action figure still in his left hand between his index and middle finger.

"You'd be proud of at least _one _of your boys John," Bruce seemed to say to Dick's dad, a faint smile on his lips.

Then his eyes turned to the action figure.

"As for you…" he promptly tossed it into the fire where he hoped it would melt.

His smile grew, but only to a small smile. It was an increase from a faint smile, but not by much. He watched carefully as the mask began to melt.

"Next time, why don't you mess me up a little before you get the nerve to ask if you can sell an army of my mini clones?" he seemed to ask the melting wax.

It didn't respond, but no one really expected it to. With that being said, Bruce finally seemed content in his drunken state.

**YES, I KNOW BRUCE IS OOC. Like I said, I can't make Bruce. When I first wrote this chapter, I winced and was like, "Oh my God! If they saw how OOC Bruce is, they'd throw me in the fire!" so I had to make him drunk. **_**I know **_**Alfred would never make Bruce drink or anything like that. Ignore it. Just… agh. Well, now you know Matt has a record, but you haven't seen it. Next Tuesday (hopefully), you should hear more of Matt with the dinner and such. He isn't such a nice guy (;**

**Anyway, I apologize for the crappy chapter. I'm just putting this off. I'm scared to write for Bruce. **_**I know Bruce would never get drunk. **_**Shut your traps. Go flame some other story. I'm a Styrofoam plate. One flame and I'm just a white pile of goo. Seriously, that happens. If you haven't thrown one of those white Styrofoam plates into a fire, I recommend you do. It looks cool!**

**-F.J. **


	6. Chapter 6

**I have a newfound respect for the cabbage patch kids. Those would be some scary ass creatures to find yourself fighting against in the apocalypse. I have two in my closet, Savannah and Amy, so if they were all just to come alive and attack me in my sleep… I already sleep with my blankets in a huge tight cocoon, so all they'd have to do is tuck me in a little tighter and I'd suffocate… *looks to closet slowly* maybe I should close that tonight… Just in case… **

**Disclaimer: I'm scared to admit that I own two cabbage patch kids, but I'm also upset to admit that I don't own Young Justice… *sigh* **

She ran her finger along his jaw line, drawing a shiver down his spine. His blue eyes sparkled happily, making her giggle quietly.

"I kept my part of the deal," she reminded him, her fingers tracing the back of his knuckles now. "Now it's your turn…"

Matt nodded weakly, caught in the trance she caused.

"Whatever you want babe," he mumbled, his smile wobbling.

He shakily walked to the door, still hypnotized by her touch. He didn't make it to the door before she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head in-between his shoulder blades.

"Don't come back without him," she whispered into his ear, causing his eyelids to flutter blissfully.

"I won't come back without him," he repeated in a distracted voice.

She smirked to herself, releasing her grip.

"Good luck," she more ordered than suggested.

He nodded and opened the door carefully.

"Goodbye-," he almost spoke her name.

Something in his mind switched on though and his eyes regained their dull glazy color.

"I'll be back with him," he said in a monotone, and with that, he closed the door, leaving her alone to prepare the house for its soon to be new guest.

XxXxX

Dick fidgeted anxiously, scared sick. What if Matt didn't like dinner? What if Bruce embarrassed him? What if Matt brought up the topic of Bruce's guardianship over him? His eyebrows were turned down and his eyes kept darting from the door to Alfred who was helping fix dinner. Upon seeing how terrified Dick seemed, Alfred chuckled warmly and tousled his hair in a way that made Dick ease up a little.

"You're acting a lot like Master Wallace," Alfred teased, not even noticing his slip-up.

Dick didn't really care. Wally had been coming over a lot more often, so it was appropriate that he get a title too.

"I am?" he asked nervously, crossing to the cabinets to get three wine glasses from the top shelf.

"You're fidgeting like he does when he's off his Ritalin," Alfred explained himself.

Dick thought about it and shrugged in agreement.

"I guess… I'm just a little nervous," he admitted, climbing onto the countertop carefully.

Alfred nodded empathetically. "Don't worry; it's only healthy to be a little nervous. He's meeting your 'family' for this first time. If you weren't worried, then you wouldn't be human."

Dick smiled weakly, his hands gaining more stability as he stood up on the granite, carefully opening the cabinet door.

"Gee Alfred, you make it seem like he's my date!" he chuckled, setting one careful wine glass after the other by his bare feet until three sat lined in a row.

Alfred chuckled at the thought.

"Ah, the day you bring home a man… that'll be a day worth living to see! And you know how Bruce feels about redheads in general so-," he stopped as he felt a confused glance meet his own happy one.

"Are you suggesting I'll be with Wally? Or that guy from the original cheesy Scooby Doo movies that tripped during the Clay Aiken song?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the last suggestion. "Wasn't it Velma who tripped?"

Dick hesitated, but he honestly couldn't remember. It had been so long since he had seen that movie. It was little more than a memory to him now. He frowned as he realized he had gotten off track.

"Alfred, don't change the subject. Were you suggesting I'll be with Wally one day?"

Alfred smiled to himself.

"Sorry about that Master Richard. It's just my inner fangirl, I'm afraid," he apologized.

Dick picked up two wine glasses in one hand, using his free hand to pick up the last one, walking carefully to the dining room table.

"Don't you mean fanboy?" he attempted to correct the butler.

Alfred shook his head.

"Who's ever heard of a fanboy?" he said it teasingly, as if Dick should've already known that.

Dick just shook his head. There was no need to argue. If he did, he'd only get more confused. He set two wine glasses on one side of the table and one on the other before walking back to the kitchen to get a normal glass for himself. Lucky for him, they were in a lower cabinet that he could reach without having to endanger himself. When he grabbed one, he caught Alfred's eyes again, shooting him a playful like.

"You think I'll turn out gay?" he tested, pretending to sound hurt.

Alfred didn't say yes, but he also didn't say no. "That's up to you. I'm just saying what the fangirls get the giddiest over, or however you'd say that."

Dick took the hint that he wasn't going to get an answer, so he just put his mind back to setting the table, trying to keep from worrying about the quickly approaching dinner.

XxXxX

Bruce strode calmly down the driveway to greet the nearing figure. He could tell, even from fifty feet away, that this man was definitely rated to his ward. From the way he cut his black hair to his clothing choice to the blue eyes that Bruce could somehow make out from that far off. He managed to keep silent until he was less than five feet from the only living Grayson besides the one who he currently housed. He met with the blue eyes and studied them, searching for ill intentions, but he saw nothing.

"Are you Matt?" Bruce asked roughly, glancing from the dark jeans to the open red jacket that harbored a simple black shirt.

The man seemed about 27, more or less, showed a smile that was a true match to the one he had seen light up Dick's face an uncountable amount of times.

"That'd be me!" the blue eyes looked Bruce up and down, from his white tuxedo shirt to his black slacks, "You must be Bruce."

Bruce nodded curtly, managing a feeble smile. Matt held out his pale hand, calloused from years of roofing it seemed, and Bruce shook it firmly. Bruce turned to head to the house and Matt followed.

"Nice house you've got here," Matt observed, his blue eyes trying to hide the wonder and jealousy he felt as he gazed over the manor.

Bruce's smile widened a little.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Only the best for my family…"

He had been referring to something his father had told him long ago, but Matt hadn't taken it that way.

"Dick probably didn't like the name change much, did he?" Matt's eyes went distant. "I remember that one day he came home from Pre-School sobbing because the teacher called him Richard instead of Dick. He was always so specific about his name…"

Matt was too busy marveling at what he could see of the manor to notice the surprised and confused face Bruce gave off.

"Name change?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Matt's eyes didn't change their course. "Well, you adopted him, didn't you?"

Bruce shook his head more to himself.

_Dick really didn't tell him much… Leave it to that boy to leave out the important stuff_ Bruce criticized in his head.

"Didn't you?" Matt repeated, snapping the millionaire from his criticizing.

Bruce blinked off his thoughts and shook his head.

"I never officially adopted your… brother," he said gingerly.

Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Then… he's still up for adoption?" he tried to understand.

Bruce shook his head a bit too quick.

"He's under my guardianship. I'm warding him," he tried to explain.

Matt didn't really understand what warding meant, but he knew it rhymed with hoarding, and part of the definition of hoarding was 'in a hidden or carefully guarded place', so he translated warding as babysitting. He didn't really question it though because he knew Bruce was a wealthy man and wealthy people always got what they wanted him.

"Why haven't you… adopted him?" Matt asked curiously as they got to the doorway.

Bruce froze, his hand on the door knob. His mind was blank for the second time in history. The last time it had been like this had been when his parents had died. He blinked his eyes for a moment and met the curious blue eyes before him. In them, he could see Dick's curious and hopeful little face. He had to avert his eyes as he sighed.

"I… I just haven't gotten around to it yet," he found himself saying.

Matt frowned lightly.

"I think Dick would like that. He seems to like you, and I bet it'd mean the world to him… to have parents again I mean. He seemed scared to tell me about their deaths and he sounded… broken? Is that the word?"

Bruce's heart grew heavy in his chest and he had to blink just a bit faster. He smiled weakly at Matt before opening the door, inviting the stranger into his home. The second the older copy of Dick stepped over the doorstep, he immediately found a pair of pale arms wrap around his waist happily.

"You came!" Dick cried, his voice muffled.

The look of happiness on his face made Bruce's heart ache and he exchanged glances with Alfred. His eyes told Alfred in that single glance that they needed to talk later. But first, they had to have dinner.

**Okay, you all probably know who 'she' is in the beginning… I shouldn't have mentioned her in earlier chapters, but by gummibears, I'm going to test her as much as I need to until somebody tells me she's kickass. What should they have for dinner? I'm dead serious. I was originally going to have chicken or lasagna, but I don't know what Dick would eat… **

**And if you want to know the official updates, (damn, I hate doing this. I feel so freakin' awkward), they're up on some little thing I made (frankandjoethree) (.webs) (.com). It has the calendar and songs and all that junk… Check it if you want, but don't feel pressured to… It's just in case you're curious… Or if you want an easier way to get in contact with me… Well, uh… dang, sorry this is late. I think you'll like next chapter… **

**-FrankandJoe3**


	7. Chapter 7

**So, tonight was the new NCIS! IT WAS AMAZING! It had hints of Tiva and Kate's dumbass sister referred to Ziva as one of Tony's relationships! I still hate E.J., but… Oh well!**

**Disclaimer: I don't even know why I write these, because nothing will ever change. Just shuddup and hug me (: You know you want to…**

The wine glasses sparkled in the low lighting, their red contents swishing around in their clear prisons. The heavy aroma of chicken and mashed potatoes, the classic KFC meal that had been fixed up a bit healthier than how the restaurant originally made it, floated gently around the room, settling itself wherever it damn pleased. The talk was casual, the laughter light and the smiles even lighter.

Alfred found Matt simply delightful, saying that he definitely acted like an older version of his younger brother, which made him positively lovable. Bruce found him tolerable, which was a lot on his part. He had lowered his guard, but only ever so slightly. Dick, of course, was overjoyed to see that his current 'family' as he deemed them seemed to appreciate what was left of his real family. He knew that he'd never be able to live with Matt again, but he felt a little better knowing that his brother could tell he was living with good people.

When dinner ended, the atmosphere was warm and the spirits were high. Alfred began to gather the plates out of habit, but Matt brushed his hands away.

"I can clean up after myself," he insisted, causing Alfred to hesitate in surprise.

"I really don't mind. That's what I'm hired for."

Matt stared at him blankly for a moment before remembering that he was a butler and smiling.

"Thanks, but no. I was raised in a house where we clean up after ourselves, as was the lil' tyke over there," his eyes accusingly glancing over at Dick.

Dick threw his hands up, pretending to act offended before grinning sheepishly.

"Hey! When I came here, I was told he'd basically do anything. Less work for me," he shrugged lazily, earning a smirk from Matt's lips.

"Looks like some kids never change," he chuckled weakly.

Dick's eyes narrowed playfully.

"Kid?" he repeated with a mock scoff, "You're looking at a _man _here!"

Even Dick laughed at the thought. Bruce weakly tousled his hair, looking to the others as a friendly show of affection. Dick tensed up at the touch though. It was… different.

"You need to be tall enough to ride on the roller coasters before you can be called a man," Bruce teased.

Dick stayed tensed in shock. Bruce was being friendly…? He was grinning. Was he drunk again? He hadn't seen Bruce this happy since-… actually, he had never seen Bruce this happy in all four years of living with him. He _had _to be somewhat out of it, even if it was by just a tenth or so. Or was it an act to prove to Matt that he had nothing to worry about?

"Yo, Dick?" Matt's voice snapped Dick from his trance. "You alright?"

The ebony jumped at the voice.

"Wha- oh sorry! Just thinking," he smiled apologetically.

Matt nodded simply, opening his lips to say something, but Bruce cut him off.

"It was nice to meet you," he said sincerely, holding out a pale hand.

Matt stared at it for a moment before grinning and returning the handshake.

"Same here," Matt shared lightly, turning to Alfred.

The old butler held out his own hand and shook hands with the boy in his late twenties.

"Wonderful dinner," Matt complimented lightly.

Alfred smiled proudly. "Thank you."

Then Matt turned to Dick. "C'mere."

Dick shyly walked over to his brother.

"It was nice to-," Dick began, but his words were cut off as a hand clapped over his mouth.

He let out a cry, as did the surprised older men in the room, but before he could elbow his brother in the stomach and break free from the hold, a scent he had become all too familiar with in all of his years of being kidnapped filled his nose and the world went black. Bruce and Alfred acted fast too, but before they could get close to Matt and Dick, the windows on either side of them imploded, glass and a bright flashy light flew across the room and they both dropped on instinct. By the time the light faded seconds later, Matt and Dick were nowhere to be seen.

Bruce sat up, his eyes wide and his face pale. Alfred's face echoed his. It took only a moment for Bruce's panic to turn into pure rage. He brought his fists down hard onto the ground, letting out a caveman like cry of anger.

"Damnit!" he fumed, but it was no use.

His son had been bird-napped, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing except don his Bat Suit, run to the Bat Cave and find his baby.

_**Pour me something tall and strong… Make it a hurricane before I go insane. It's only half past twelve- but I don't care. It's 5 o'clock somewhere. **_**Boy, ain't that the truth. So, sorry it's short, but other asshole authors do it, so I figured I might try it. I only have like, 10 minutes left and tomorrow's my day of freedom! I'm not wasting tomorrow on you folks~ Ha, such love! Anyway, review. Sorry Bruce was all happy and such and OOC. I never read the comics or watched any of the other Batman series. All I know is Brave and the Bold and the little we see of him in Young Justice, WHICH STARTS BACK UP SATURDAY! **

**-FrankandJoe3**


	8. Chapter 8

**In the Ghetto… on the cold and gray Chicago morning, another little baby child is born in the Ghetto… and then Momma cries, 'cause if there's one thing that she don't need, it's another little hungry mouth to feed, in the Ghetto~**

_**YO! IDGETS!**_** Wanna help me? My friend Lexie entered a contest online at (wadf. sing like lady antebellum .com/ 192779) without the spaces, where she sang "just a kiss good night". She's really good and she deserves to win. She's in 6****th**** place right now. If you would, please go check her out on the site and vote her up. 100 votes per day. Please? It would be SO awesome if someone from my town actually won! And she really is amazing!**

**Disclaimer: F.J. is MINE. If you take her, I will sue you. I have **_**proof **_**that she's mine and I will **_**sue **_**you if you take her. Nothing else is mine though. **

Dick was used to being kidnapped. He was the almost son of a multimillionaire, so every other week, some 'genius' with a 'good idea' came after him. That meant he was used to escaping his kidnappers and hiding from the press. It also meant that he had gotten a nickname at his school: the Damsel in Distress. He wasn't ever called it to his face though. The last time he had been, six kids from Gotham Academy were sent to the hospital for burn marks and suspiciously moved when they got out.

This time, it was personal. When his blue eyes opened, he looked around the room weakly, feeling around to make sure that nothing was broken. His neck was sore, his left foot was suffering through pins and needles, his wrists were handcuffed behind his back and he could feel a handcuff wrapped around his right ankle. Until his left foot decided to quit sewing with its eyes closed, he wouldn't know about it, but he figured it was best to assume that it was handcuffed too. The room he was in was dimly lit, but he could see its details easily.

It looked like a bedroom; a little girl's bedroom to be specific. He was obviously sitting with his back to closet door, giving him a perfect view of everything else. Beside him was a yellowish dresser with a big mirror on top. On the dresser top was an orange shoebox, a gray hippo in a pink overcoat, a sock monkey with a red tip in a yellow onesie, a brown teddy bear with a cracked eyes in a pair of overalls, a poorly stitched together homemade doll wrapped in a blue bandana, a white bunny with white bows over her ears in a white apron over a blue shirt and a brown tabby cat with a blue ribbon around its neck.

In front of him was another dresser, the same color, with a pink lamp with roses around the shade. There was a black CD player, old fashioned boom box style, a weird looking light purple CD inside. A small box, decorated with deer and turkeys, sat beside the lamp, stuffed to the top with pens of all kinds, ranging from tulip tops to Mickey Mouse to just basic pens. Across the room, next to the 1990 styled TV was a huge dresser covered in picture frames and a bunch of creepy dolls who were all turned intentionally to stare at him. To his left was a wall covered in drawn pictures, ranging from ones of drawn gay couples, South Park characters, Pokemon and a random little girl with long hair, ribbons and wide eyes.

What really caused the goose bumps on his arms though was the bed. It was a twin, the comforter blue with dozens of green and purple rectangles all over it. There was only one pillow, white, with a faded blood stain over the center. On the bed sat a girl. She was what caused the hair on his neck to stand up in fear.

"Hey," she said softly, her lips twisted up in a familiar bloodthirsty grin.

She had black hair that fell to the middle of her back, standing up on all ends as if someone had just ran a balloon over it with a murderous intent. Her eyes were wide and piercing, and she didn't seem to be able to blink. Her lips were an unnatural shade of red in their wide smile and her skin was practically translucent. She wore an oversized shirt with him and Wally printed on the front from when they had been arguing one time or another, their faces just inches apart, both of them in costume. He recognized the time, but he knew better than to question the powers of the fangirl so he didn't ask about it.

"About time you woke up, silly!" she giggled lightly.

She looked about 10 at the oldest, but he bet she was barely nine. She had her legs crossed Indian-style and she cupped her chin with her small hands. Dick struggled to find his voice.

"Where am I?" he was surprised how dry and weak his voice was.

The little girl cocked her head teasingly, her smile softening in just the slightest. She was so familiar, but he knew that she didn't know her. Maybe she looked like an actress he had seen on TV? Maybe she was related to someone he knew?

"You're in _my _house," the girl replied simply, as if that answered everything in life.

Dick blinked exhaustedly, studying her face carefully.

"Who are you?" his voice shook from lack of strength.

Her grin still stayed, but it was as if it was frozen to her face because her eyes saddened lightly. It took her a moment, but the original ebony was fine with being silent. It hurt his throat to speak anyway.

"Sissy calls me Ann," she said after a while, her voice still saddened.

Dick just blinked. He couldn't think of the proper thing to say, so he didn't. Ann took that opportunity to talk enough for the both of them.

"I didn't want you in my room, but sissy said that Pretty Eyes didn't want you downstairs with them because he felt bad, so I had to. You've got eyes just like Pretty Eyes though. Sissy called you a bad name, but I didn't want to call you… Dick," her pinks lit up at the mention, "So I had to think of a new name. I was 'onna call you Pretty Eyes Jr., but that's stupid. So… Imma call you Bubba."

The blue eyed boy scrunched up his nose in discomfort, struggling against the handcuffs.

"My name… is… Dick," he bit his lip lightly.

"Whatever you say, Bubba," she teased lightly, her giggle turning to a mad cackle.

The cackle triggered something in the depths of his mind. It gave him the idea to try to look at the picture frames on the dresser. He craned his neck to see them. He saw her in one picture out of what had to be about 40. In the picture, she was standing in front of what looked like the glass that separated prisoners from those talking to them via the phone. Behind the glass was a man in a straitjacket with a face of pure white, bright red lips and wild green hair. There was only one man in this universe that it could be: the Joker.

His heart stopped its regular pace metaphorically for a second before they darted over the rest of the pictures. They were all of an older girl who looked about 25 with the exact same details as Ann.

"What's your last name?" Dick cut Ann off in mid-story, obviously pissing her off a lot.

She scrunched her nose up, her eyebrows furrowing down furiously, but the same stupid smile stayed plastered to her face.

"_If you had been listening_," her voice dropped a few octaves before returning to normal, "you would've heard that I don't have one because Momma was stupid enough to bang somebody with no last name."

Dick's eyes widened. Her parents had told her, at around the age of 9, about this stuff? He was _thirteen _and he hadn't even gotten 'the talk' yet! Everything he knew, he knew from the internet and friends.

"W-Who is… your mom?" he asked dryly.

"Harley," is what Dick heard, ringing a hall of bells within Dick's subconscious.

He knew it wasn't spelled like my old dog's name though **[1]**. He suspected it as one of the few female enemies that he had had faced up against's name.

"A… as in Quinn?" he assumed that was how you spelt it.

Ann hesitated, but before she could answer, the door opened and Matt stood blindly in the doorway.

"Matt!" Dick cried, happy to see his brother.

Matt didn't glance his way though. He seemed to be stuck in a hypnotic trance of his own, his eyes dusty and blank as he glanced Ann's direction. He walked further into the room before sitting beside Ann, putting a weak arm around her.

"Pretty Eyes," Ann giggled, snuggling into Matt's arms.

He tousled her hair emotionlessly. He reminded Dick of a puppet, its strings being tugged lightly. When the door opened again, Dick's eyes tripled in size and he let out a choky cry of horror, the chair tipping back so his head hit against the closet, making him close up his eyes tightly in pain. The voice and giggle that followed only drew another cry from Dick's pale lips.

"_Here's Joker!"_

**[1] R.I.P. Harles (Harley) Joseph Montana Smith. You will be missed, you purse eating, shoe killing, big-ass puppy. **

**Oh yeah, ripping off movies. LIKE A BOSS. Realizing that this story has lost all potential and that it's gotten completely off track and people probably won't like it. LIKE A BOSS. Got a foot cramp. LIKE A BOSS. Wishing that I had contacts. LIKE A BOSS. Trippin' balls happy for the new NCIS. LIKE A child. Oh yeah, you have to love me (: Or if not, just pretend you do because I bruise easy and my blondie doesn't seem to like me without my glasses…**

**-FrankandJoe3**


	9. Chapter 9

**So in Dodgeball Soccer today, the yellow ball was coming my way so I had to avoid it for the dodgeball part. Ryan (Crash) came towards me, coming towards the yellow ball. I didn't see him. I was going after the blue ball. We crashed. I tripped, fell on my face. He got worried and helped me up. My legs caved in, but I shrugged it off 'cause Chris was watching. My knees were torn up, the skin all roughed up. I didn't think much of it. Now, I have two bruises on my knees. Thanks… **

Matt was dead. Through his thoroughly screwed up eyes that were hiding behind the black keratin that hid him and him tears, that was all he could think about. His pale arms shivered as he uselessly wrestled the bonds that strapped him to his chair.

Matt had been in the crowd four years ago. He had always been to the circus acts to 'watch his baby bro grow up'. When the EMTs had announced Mary and John Grayson dead, Matt had left the crowd, sobbing his heart out. He had made plans to commit suicide by hanging himself, but he couldn't bring himself to do it in a sober mind, so he had gone to the bar and downed a few. On his way to drive home, wasted out of his mind, he had a head-on collision with another car. The crash didn't kill him. Worried about the safety of the other driver, Matt had broken the window on his door and had tried to climb out to help them. He ended up cutting his stomach on the glass when his arms were to weak to support his body where he bled out in seconds.

When EMTs came upon the scene, they announced Matt dead the second they arrived. They identified the other driver as a mass murderer and rapist who was on the way to his next hit. Matt had killed a bad guy, but if he hadn't been drunk, he would've actually saved the man, and the thought of his brother being an accessory to murder and/or rape scared Dick down to his core.

That meant that this whole time, he had gotten his hope up about actually having family out there that was still alive. That meant that he had been alone in the world this whole time. He supposed this was what it felt like when a blind child was promised vision and all they got to 'see' was a series of beeps that form images like he saw on some TV station. Maybe it was like when a deaf kid was given a hearing aid, but someone wired it so they heard a radio; they thought they'd have what they wanted most, but it was all just a sick trick. That's all it ever was anymore. Everything was just a trick that'd lead to disappointment, or so it seemed.

XxXxX

When Batman walked into Mount Justice, he felt all eyes suspiciously follow him. He swallowed whatever it was he was holding back and strode in front of the team. No one said anything for a while, but Batman could tell that they all had questions. He kept silent as if to silently urge them to ask what was bothering them.

"This is the sixth day that Robin's been gone. Where is he?" Wally spoke up first, his voice dunked in a nice mixture of fear and desperation.

Batman swallowed hard.

"Any other questions before I begin?" he asked, his gravelly voice a little off its normally demanding tone.

No one said anything, but they all obviously wondered the same thing that Wally did. Batman nodded curtly before turning behind him.

"You're new mission," he began slowly.

Several photos covered the screen. There was a picture, probably taken from a helicopter, of a fancy mansion from high above. Another was of Matt Grayson, but the rest of the team didn't recognize him in the slightest. A picture of the exploded dining room of the Wayne Manor was up there too. The picture that caught everyone's eyes though was the one of Robin. It obviously wasn't a picture taken willingly because he was darting along some corridor, his "_You've Got a Secret, and I'm Going to Figure It Out" _face clearly displayed.

"Why is Robin on the screen?" Artemis asked lightly.

Batman seemed to avert his eyes and hesitate, but he shook it off. He was Batman! He didn't get bothered. He turned away from the team, looking up at Robin.

"You're new mission," he started again, "is to find my sidekick."

**Yeah, I know he'd never ask that. Just go screw off in a corner and roll with it. I have a whole scene with Bruce and Alfred meeting the team all planned out… I don't know how I'm going to roll with little Dicky boy. Sorry it's short, but tonight was NCIS night and daddy's knee was hyperextended… and I kinda made it worse. It's not my fault he tickled me! He should've known that if he tickled me, he'd get kicked. It's an involuntary twitch! I'm sorry Daddy! I didn't mean to make you mad… I just want you to love me… like Zach… Can't you tell I'm trying to be perfect in your eyes? **

***Sigh* Sorry, this chapter sucked. Whatever. You don't like it? **_**Write it yourself**_**. Seriously. If you want it, take it. I hate schedules. Just ask. I'll give you permission to rewrite this story and steal it. I don't care. **

**-FrankandJoe3 **


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